the always-aslant encounter
of humans and street
making their lives
in the grounds they see
in the grounds they have been given
constant encounter
as variable as the daily

for those who see
elliptical to the happenstance
the skyline to the treeline
the glide to the cobble
the palm to the point
the both-step-aside to avoid each other’s path
and collide
Hopper saw it
and Colan saw it and Strange had already
stepped into it
stepped through it and out again

moment

but now
his pupils are that much more round
the trashcan tilted
the better to see now
the street
the face in the orb implied
that everything had changed and that
things
would never be the same again

continued …

II

… things are the same again
always have
always had
the second half of the twentieth century
incorporated it
you either had it or you wanted it
either way it fed the corporation
everyone fed the corporation
by wealth by health
by belief
this is the way things are
dwelt at the very heart of the world
turning growing and fiery
there comes a time
when the power
and the beauty become elliptical
to each other
to themselves
then chaos will come
you mark my words
thinks the aged Genghis high on the edge of the world
aged enough in life
to see beyond self: there is nothing there
there is nothing there

III

a colossus
strides effortlessly across canyons and generations
fed by the needs of billions
engorged enough to consume
itself
it speaks with a flaming head
unstable
too much
too much that
it will disperse itself even as it reaches
the needs of billions
flooded through a world of veins
like tumbling yellow fat
the mother is bound
the father is blind
and only all the words of worlds
will speak
while Strange and devotion
expand through dimensions
growing alarmingly through the stages of their lives
quick to get there while
wanting it all
a son sits ‘by the blackened wall
he does it all he thinks he’s died
and gone to heaven’*

IV

there are ellipses yes
but Strange has long known that they are doorways too
he can step through them all
in the twinkle
of anyone’s eye
he can see the aches
of option and perspective
he can see the nightmares
of polarity and stasis
bounding towards him
but never approaching
me ME

his own speech
becomes the twinkle in his eye
he steps
and with a flourish
the sky takes a form of the whole universe
to talk:

V**

‘communication
has undone you
you know of all others’ success
and see only your own failure
you will not have ignorance
you would have all knowledge
all the words of worlds speak
and from each word
you draw more closely in upon yourself
unable to settle on shared or
compromise ‘… stand
on their differences
and shoot at the moon’ ***
each man must win
so all men must lose
all expansion
must take the turn of contraction
you cannot have
sustained growth
‘first comes spring and summer
but then we have fall and winter … Ben’ ****

VI

the twinkle
becomes my eye
I see my life
from inside the many faces I have worn
as I contrive power and plan escape
over/from/death/life
vainglorious
compulsive
petulant

and failed every time I act
[and compose]
the more I do
the less I get anywhere
and the more
my selves multiply and reside
I could lose
the whole world
through my asides and schemes
my power and play
all of the ellipses spinning
to conjure my face
spinning fit to vortex to hold my face to the world
and the more I am
a sorcerer supreme the more
I am grotesque
the more I gestate the mad messiah-killers
in the backrush and tail-
spin

I hadn’t thought
I hadn’t given
I hadn’t laughed
I hadn’t loved
another

VII

too late
planet Earth is no more
for all my fighting and struggle
I have achieved only the madness of Mordo
the whole span and play of existence
ssspunnn
into its opposite:
being
death
ovum
rebirth
everything
is the same as it ever was but
classic classic comicbook
it was all just a dream
it is everything that is dream

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… Mark; remember …

"... the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful; it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe to find ashes.
~ Annie Dillard

... just browsing

I wander around after this lot a lot …

m’peeps who notice I exist

these things I liked …

I am the "little armored one", moving gently through life. Hoping to safeguard my sensitivities with layers of words and the expression of thought. Shielding my mirror neurons at times, or tasting music and spinning till I'm dizzy. Every moment here is a gift.